Keeping Score
by MomentarySetback
Summary: A series of somewhat but not really connected one-shots in [hopefully] chronological order, following the development of Calleigh and Eric's relationship from coworkers, to friends who critique each other's love lives, to much more. Starts with Season One.
1. Midnight Tiptoe

_Note: This is something I should've done a long time ago: a series of somewhat but not really connected one-shots in hopefully chronological order, following the development of Calleigh and Eric's relationship from coworkers, to friends who critique each other's love lives, to much more. Involves many post-ep/episode-related chapters. This will probably stay canon, so Eric and Calleigh aren't together for a while, but it will have flirty undertones from the beginning, mayyybe (definitely cause I may have already written it) culminating in an M-rated chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter Title:** Midnight Tiptoe  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** before season 1, episode 3 (when Eric asks if he can stay with Calleigh while he lays low and she says "On the couch. No midnight tiptoe.") I always like to think about what prompted that comment, so voila.

* * *

Calleigh couldn't sleep. She never could when she was away from home. She'd been that way since she was a little girl, restlessly tossing and turning at sleepovers while the other kids slept soundly. And she never could sleep when she drank, which she had a little bit tonight to everyone's surprise, including her own.

It was a bit of a special occasion. Tyler's rich uncle had lent them his nine bedroom mansion on the beach for an official unofficial MDPD CSI lab holiday party. She'd split a bottle of wine with Alexx, who'd made the smart, reasonable decision to go home to her family at ten. She'd escaped just before Michelle, one of the new techs, had arrived and started making tequila sunrises. _Those_ had been the reason Calleigh hadn't made it home as planned and ended up in a pool with at least eight of her coworkers.

Eric had also been the reason, because his challenging, amused smirk when she'd accepted her first drink had egged her right on. And seeing him without his shirt on had not been bad either – it never was. Neither was the playful way he kept trying to get her in the pool, completely innocent if not for the devilish smirk and flirtatious undertones that seemed to pervade his voice and glances most of the time when he talked to her. Okay, if she were being honest, that was when he talked to most women. But still.

When Speed gave in and cannonballed into the pool in his cargo shorts, she knew that resistance was a lost cause. So she and her black bikini and her second tequila sunrise had gotten in the water, Eric's amused eyes somewhat shamelessly yet respectfully dragging over her. He seemed to get a rise out of flirting with her just enough to get a response; maybe it was because she'd friend-zoned him as a coworker on Day One so it was harmless, or maybe that was just Eric.

She was leaning toward both options as the night went on and he and Michelle grew more handsy. By the time she was on her third tequila sunrise and Eric and Michelle were celebrating their winning streak of chicken with a lingering hug, hands clinging to warm, wet skin, Calleigh was catching his gaze and rolling her eyes, lips pursed as she tried not to smile. She didn't know how he did it, mixing his work life and personal life so seamlessly.

She'd always been a black-and-white kinda gal. But then again, she'd always been a little different – which was why she was currently standing in the large modern and metallic kitchen sipping a much-needed glass of water right now instead of sleeping at five in the morning like everyone else.

Well, maybe not _everyone_ else, she realized as she heard movement from the top of the stairs. Someone was being very quiet, but years of police and CSI work had made her attune to the slightest sounds: the soft click of someone quietly shutting a door, the brushing of clothing against clothing as someone shuffled down stairs. She walked to the end of the kitchen nearest the stairs and poked her head out just in time to see Eric descending the stairs – which was amusing because she could've _sworn_ he'd claimed a downstairs room like she had.

He spotted her just as an amused smile spread across her lips because she'd figured it out. As he brushed past her into the kitchen, button-up haphazardly unbuttoned so his muscular chest and toned abdomen were peeking out, she pursed her lips and shook her head. He gave her a playful, questioning look and she coyly turned her head toward the direction he'd come from, eyes narrowed in suspicion, before glancing and nodding towards the other end of the kitchen: the one that led to the hallway they'd both claimed rooms down. She was all too aware that Michelle had coincidentally found a room upstairs.

Eric chuckled as he retrieved an identical glass to hers and filled it with water.

"Really, Eric?" Calleigh chided, tilting her head as she watched him quickly down half the glass.

"What?" He turned to lean his back against the counter opposite her, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "We're two consenting adults."

"Who work together," she added for him. She was unable to keep her eyes from wandering down his chest as he finished off the glass.

"You know," he began as he turned, flipped the faucet on, and filled the glass again, "that's not a dealbreaker for some people."

He grinned, his eyes flirtatiously inviting as they held hers, and damnit, he was getting to her again. And he probably knew it, judging by the way he stepped closer – and closer again, until his arm brushed hers as he reached behind her to grab a leftover chocolate chip cookie from the counter, boxing her in close enough to feel his warmth. The arm that was in front of her holding her glass brushed against the open flap of his shirt, and then his warm skin.

"Sounds messy," she insisted, pressing her free hand to his chest to push him back.

"Only if you let it be." He chuckled again, amused by her morals. "Look, the way I see it...we're two mature people who went for what we wanted. We know that it was what it was and we're not gonna let it affect our work." He took care of the cookie in two bites and then, now very aware that he was not creeping through the house alone at night and was instead talking with a coworker – with _Calleigh_ – he quickly buttoned up his shirt.

Calleigh pressed her lips together and shrugged. "That's a great plan," she admitted, but her voice was a little empty. "But she's new, and you don't know her that well...and you're her senior at work…"

Eric sighed, nodding just slightly as he acknowledged her point but still standing his ground. "Point taken, but...we were clear that it was just for fun. And I had fun, and she _definitely_ seemed to have fun, so…"

Calleigh rolled her eyes, annoyed at her own broad smile that had her tucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. God, he was cocky. And she usually hated cocky but he made it oddly endearing and somehow still respectful.

"What?" He chuckled, resuming his position at the counter opposite her. "Like you've never hooked up before."

Calleigh pressed her lips together again and raised her brows, averting her eyes to the side under his watchful gaze. Eric tilted his head and widened his eyes, zeroing in on her unusually easy-to-read expression.

"You've...never hooked up before," he realized aloud, looking at her disbelievingly.

"No," she admitted, an oddly pleased smirk spreading across her lips.

Eric breathed out a chuckle, eyes still studying her in a way that easily revealed he was struggling to come to terms with that revelation.

"What?"

"Nothing," he scoffed. "It's just...you look the way you do and you've never…" His eyes held hers, voice trailing off as he silently finished that sentence. Though she was standing before him now in rather simple jeans and a tank top, her straightened hair tousled after a few hours of restless sleep and her tired eyes, he could easily admit she was rather stunning...not to mention he was having a little trouble getting the image of her in that black bikini out of his head.

"No," she confirmed, eyes lighting up as an amused smile graced her lips. "I'm a relationship kinda gal."

"Not even in college?"

"Nope, I had a boyfriend...briefly." She looked to the side for a minute, trying not to get too distracted from his previous words. "Was that a compliment?"

Eric backtracked through their conversation for a moment before he hesitantly answered, "Yes," just a little less shamelessly than he normally would. He actually had a flicker of hesitation in his answer and she stiffened a little as she realized why. He wasn't playfully flirting in that charming, relentless way of his; he was just being honest.

Calleigh pursed her lips, surprising herself when she began to reveal more than she had to in an effort to brush right over that. "I just think that kind of intimacy requires a certain amount of...trust. And familiarity." Maybe those tequila sunrises were still affecting her inhibition…

Eric shrugged, seriously contemplating her thoughts. "But there's different kinds of trust, right? In that moment, I trust that person...physically I guess."

"And you can just separate that from everything else?" she asked skeptically.

"Maybe not everything," he admitted, cracking a smile. "But I don't know. Emotions are messy. We see that every day, right?"

"We do," she agreed, sighing and taking another sip from her glass. Well, this was getting a little deep...

"I don't know, this job takes a lot out of you." He held her gaze, finding understanding and agreement there. "I don't think I have time or energy for anything more right now."

Calleigh smiled sadly but understandingly, her respect for him growing a little as she realized that maybe he understood himself a little better than she'd thought.

"Why do you think I'm single?" she said with a playful shrug of one shoulder. He let out an amused chuckle in response and watched as she tipped the last of her water back, placed her cup in the dishwasher, and bumped it closed with her hip.

She took in a deep breath before saying, "Well, I think the wine and tequila are effectively out of my system. You want a ride home?"

"You don't mind?" His condo in Little Haiti wasn't exactly on the way home for her from Miami Beach.

"Nah," she said honestly. "I'm wide awake anyway. Let me grab my stuff."

She turned, heading towards the opposite end of the kitchen. As she ran a hand through her hair and flipped it to one side, Eric found himself a little too interested in the cascade of blonde, the curves of her strong but feminine shoulders, and the little patch of creamy skin her tank top revealed as it lifted up with her arm. He shook his head, smiling at the rather complex mystery that was Calleigh.

When she returned with a tote bag over her shoulder, she began to brush past him to lead him out, but stopped abruptly next to him, reaching out to place a hand over his chest and letting her striking eyes catch his.

"I'm glad you had fun," she said honestly, an amused smile curving the corners of her lips upward at their shared secret. If she had to put money down on someone playing a little midnight tiptoe at the department Christmas party, it'd definitely be Eric – and he hadn't disappointed.

"Thanks," he said, chuckling and ducking his head a little as he followed her out. And if his caramel skin and the shadows of the dim kitchen hadn't been just dark enough to hide it, she'd have sworn Eric Delko might actually be blushing a little.

He recovered quickly, though, asking as he followed her out, "So how many guys have you dated?"

She was too sharp to fall for it though, easily connecting the pieces of their conversation to understand what he was asking. Looking back at him, she said, "I'm not telling you my number."

Eric chuckled, shaking his head as they passed through the front door and hit the balmy beach air outside.

"Less than two hands?" he asked as they made their way to her Jeep in the driveway. She gave him a look as they climbed in, and he couldn't decide if she was offended by his estimate – high or low – or simply his question. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

A mischievous smirk tugged at his side of her lips as she cranked the engine to life, a pretty curtain of blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward. She quickly tucked it back behind her ear. "You haven't lost count?"

Eric's amused chuckles slowly dissolved into laughter with hers and he shook his head. Touche, Duquesne.


	2. No Midnight Tiptoe

_Note: Thank you all SO much for all the reviews on the first chapter of this! It means a ton to know that my years-late inspiration is still appreciated, and seriously blows my mind so many of y'all are coming here to read. Keep 'em coming, they inspire me to write more. :) And if you have any episode/idea requests, feel free to run them by me!_

 _Note 2: The timeline will progress more quickly from here on out. I just happened to have two ideas related to this scene._

* * *

 **Chapter Title:** No Midnight Tiptoe  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** Post-ep for Season 1, Episode 3: Wet Foot/Dry Foot (when Eric asks if he can stay with Calleigh while he lays low and she says "On the couch. No midnight tiptoe.")

* * *

No midnight tiptoe.

She'd said it herself, and yet here she was, trying to talk herself out of breaking her own rule.

It had all started because she'd had to pee at two in the morning. She hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and now her throat was dry and all she could think about was fetching herself a glass of water from down the hall. Only that required passing her living room, where Eric was likely fast asleep on her couch and hopefully still wearing an adequate amount of clothing. That last part was questionable, though.

And the last thing she wanted was to wake him up and earn some smart aleck comment about how _she_ was tiptoeing around on him.

Exhaling deeply, she threw aside her bedding as a wave of confidence and sanity passed over her. It's your own house, for God's sake, she told herself as she rolled her eyes. She slipped a thin, flowy robe on over her silk tank top and shorts, making herself extra decent, and quietly padded down the hall of her condo. She managed to completely ignore him on her way to the kitchen, flipping on the dim little light over her sink while she grabbed a glass and filled it as quietly as possible.

Calleigh flipped off the light and waited a moment, letting her eyes adjust until she could make out the familiar contours of her kitchen. As she moved into the hallway, she let her eyes drift into her living room and she paused against her better judgment, taking in the outline of his body in the dark. One arm was tucked up and behind his head, the rather impressive curve of his bicep highlighted by the glow of the moon seeping in through her blinds. He had one leg curled up and resting against the back cushion of her couch, revealing that he did in fact have a pair of basketball shorts still on – thank god. Her lips tightened into a near smile in amusement, realizing he must have actually been grateful for her hospitality and respecting of her boundaries because he'd openly announced on more than one occasion at a bedroom crime scene that he couldn't sleep with clothes on.

Stepping forward just a little, she just barely crossed the threshold of her living room and leaned into the doorframe, finding an odd sense of comfort in having him here. She worried about him sometimes, towing that difficult and lonely line line between being both a good cop and an engaged community member in a community that hated cops. He was one of them and yet he wasn't, and she hoped a day didn't come that sorely reminded him of that.

"If you wanted to watch me sleep, you should've just invited me into your bedroom."

He'd spoken without even moving, save for his lips, and she'd about jumped out of her skin as though one of the bodies in the morgue had just spoken to her. A second hand flew to her glass to keep the water from sloshing over the side.

"God, you scared the bejeezus out of me." Taking in a deep breath, she laid a hand over her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Obviously." Eric pushed himself up into a seated position, the blanket she'd given him slipping from his bare chest until gravity pooled it at his hips. And now that moonlight was kissing the contours of his muscular chest, the ridges of his abdomen, his strong swimmer's shoulders...

Calleigh bit her lip in the dark. "Can I get you anything?"

Eric smiled. There was that southern hospitality. "Nah, I'm good. You've done enough."

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," he assured, tapping at his watch so it lit up with the time. He'd been up for a little while now, thinking about his neighborhood and bathing in the moonlight, thinking of the refugees using it as a guide to find their way ashore. Not much had changed since his parents made that very same journey, apparently.

A moment later, Calleigh realized she still wasn't off the hook when he asked, "What were you doing?"

Calleigh swallowed hard, honesty on the tip of her tongue. It wasn't going anywhere.

"I was thinking that I'm glad you do this," she told him, and his eyes found hers in the dark – glossy and open in the glow of the moon. "You know, recognize when you need to stay with me or Speed when it's not safe."

"You worry about me," he realized, his words a mix of playful accusation and awe.

"Of course I do," she said without pause, slowly stepping into the living room. She took a seat on the edge of her coffee table, pulling the flaps of her robe tighter and higher up her chest as she grew suddenly aware of her proximity to Eric and the fact that two thin layers of material covered her otherwise nude body.

"I thought you said no midnight tiptoe," he said playfully.

"In your dreams." She smiled and crossed her legs for a bit of formality, but all it did was bring his attention to the way her slip crept further up her thigh. It was dark, but he could still make out the curves of her lean legs. "Have you ever considered moving?"

"No," he answered honestly. "My family raised me in that community. That community _is_ my family."

"And yet whenever cops show up there, you have to leave for your own safety."

"It's complicated," he insisted, and though he'd never say so, she couldn't understand.

"I get it, I just want you to be safe in your own home," she said softly, worriedly. "But my couch is yours whenever you need it."

"I appreciate it, your place is a lot more cozy than Speed's." Relaxing back against the multitude of throw pillows, he lifted his arms up and tucked them behind his head.

There was that bicep again – she bit her lip.

"Smells better too," he added, drawing a soft laugh from her.

"Mmm, I would hope so." She took a drink and then cradled her glass back in both hands, an oddly comfortable silence settling between them. She was just about to excuse herself and tell him he should get some sleep, but instead she found herself asking, "Was your mom really pregnant with you when they came here?"

"Just a couple weeks," he answered, his voice soft and rough with sleep. "But yeah. They'd planned the trip before she found out she was pregnant."

"That's a rough trip to make while pregnant," Calleigh said, thinking of the countless cases they'd had involving immigrants from Cuba: shipwrecks and lifeboats, drug deals gone wrong, the choppy gulf waters between Miami and Havana...

"And by yourself with three kids under six in tow."

"Your mom must be pretty amazing," Calleigh surmised wistfully. She wished she felt that way about her mother.

"She is," he confirmed without a second thought. And then, eyes flickering up to hers playfully, he added, "She likes you, you know. Thinks you look out for me, put me in my place..." He smirked at that, knowing that as usual his mother was absolutely right.

"You told your mom about me?" she asked, all playful and coy like she was a new girlfriend and they were only a few weeks in.

Eric chuckled. "I tell my mom everything."

"Oh yeah?" Calleigh laughed softly, raising a playful brow as she moved her knee until it bumped against the couch cushion and his knee. "Did you tell her about Michelle?"

"Okay, not _everything_."

Calleigh's movement had sent her slip creeping across her chest towards her arm, revealing the silky white tank that laid beneath, and she'd grown far too comfortable now to notice. He couldn't help but let his gaze drift, the curve of her collarbone aglow in the moonlight, her smooth skin beckoning the appreciation of his eyes. He felt like a creep a moment later, like he was taking advantage of their friendship and her hospitality, and he cast his eyes downward as she stood.

"We should both get some sleep," she said, affectionately touching the top of his head. "Full moon tonight, you know what that means."

"Early call-out," they said at the same time, sharing a knowing smile.

"Night, Cal," he called out as she made her way out of the living room, turning back to smile a little more broadly.

"Goodnight, Eric."


	3. Tattoos and Wagers

**Chapter Title:** Tattoos and Wagers  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** Post-ep for 1x13 – Bunk  
 **Summary:** Eric and Speed place bets on the details of Calleigh's mystery tattoo.

(talking about tattoos)  
 _Speed: I also checked with Ernie, the guy that did Calleigh's…  
Horatio: Did Calleigh's?  
Speed: Yeah. Not that she's ever going to let anybody see it._

* * *

It had been a weird day.

Calleigh and Eric had tag-teamed what appeared to be the brutal murder of an elderly woman in a retirement home. There had been so much blood – more blood than Calleigh had seen at a crime scene in a while – and yet in the end, the evidence had led them to understand that it hadn't been a murder at all. Just an accident. A gory, traumatic yet simply unfortunate accident.

It was both gratifying and unnerving. Gratifying because it meant there was one less twisted person out there, and they got to inform a family member of the truth. Unnerving because sometimes it was all too easy to forget that tragic accidents can happen like that, taking someone away in the blink of an eye without cause.

Speed had worked on a weird case, too – a guy dropped dead after inhaling chemicals that led them to break up a new and dangerous designer drug. Definitely a weird day.

And now the three of them were sitting in a reverent silence in the break room, the only sound the scratching of chopsticks against the side of a paper take-out container. Calleigh was perched on the counter as usual, legs crossed as she searched for delectable chunks of meat in her beef lo mein. Eric and Speed were at the table, also as usual, as Eric scraped the last of his hunan chicken from the carton. A smirk suddenly tugged at his lips as a dangerous piece of information came to mind for the dozenth time that day.

"I heard that uh, Ernie cracked Speed's case," Eric said, still smirking as he set his carton aside.

Calleigh's head bolted up, eyes darting between the two of them before she cocked her head at Speed disappointedly and sighed.

"Really?" she demanded.

"What?" Speed's eyes questioned hers and he shrugged, exasperated. "I didn't realize it was some big secret. You didn't tell me not to tell anyone."

Calleigh's shoulders raised along with one arm as she gestured, asking "What is this, 6th grade? I told you that to help with your case."

Speed rolled his eyes and shook his head, his hand idly reaching for his phone to check for messages. "Well, if you're that sensitive about it, then you should know I also mentioned it to Horatio."

Calleigh cocked her head again in frustration. "Great, so my boss and both of my immediate coworkers now know." She shook her head, lifting the last bite of noodles she could possibly fit into her stomach to her mouth before she set her carton down in defeat.

"Look," Eric began with a pseudo voice of reason. "The important thing here is...where is the tattoo?"

Speed smiled to himself, looking up to gauge Calleigh's reaction: a deadpan expression, a tightening of her lips.

But as she looked away, Eric saw the twitch of her lips keeping a smirk at bay.

"I'm guessing ribs," Speed threw out. "Ribs are the new back tattoo, and Calleigh's too modest to reveal anything else to a tattoo artist."

"You willing to throw down a hundo on that?" Eric asked, eyes confidently challenging Speed because he had a much different, evidence- and intuition-based hypothesis. He looked back at Calleigh, her lips obviously pursed to the side to hide a smile now. Whether that was because Speed was right or because he was completely misguided about her modesty levels, neither knew, but Eric had a hunch.

"All right," Speed said, growing serious as he leaned forward and put both elbows on the table to lay out his terms. "$100 for content, $100 for location," he offered, sweetening the deal.

"Well it's definitely a gun," Eric said, watching Calleigh's face for the slightest reaction. She was pressing her lips together now, in annoyance and also in a last-ditch attempt to keep that smile from her lips. Again, whether it was because they were both off-base or completely right and she didn't want to admit it – that was a mystery.

"Definitely," Speed agreed. "What's your wager?"

Eric looked back at Calleigh, narrowing his eyes with a smirk as he tried to read her. He was pretty good at it, but she was also pretty good at playing the mystery card. She raised her brows expectantly, suddenly fine with this speculation into her personal life, and challenged him with a smile. He sat up a little straighter, tongue literally in cheek as he playfully held her gaze.

"Gun near the naughty bits," he quickly let out, turning back to Speed, who raised his brows in surprise.

Calleigh opened her mouth to protest, only there was nothing she could say to that because maybe he'd been a little too right. But she was still mad, so she was playing it off as disgust and surprise. And suddenly she found herself right back on the annoyed-at-her-coworkers end of the spectrum.

"What?" Eric asked, eyes widening in defense. "We've seen her in a bikini and I do not remember a tattoo."

"Well it's not like you were looking for one," Speed pointed out very flatly and sensibly.

Eric ducked his head guiltily, because while that was true, he'd definitely taken more than a cursory glance. Under his alcohol-influenced state he'd been a little too infatuated with his rather attractive colleague's smooth skin and lean but surprisingly curvy figure. And if there had been a tattoo in any visible place, he was pretty sure his curious eyes would've picked up on it.

Calleigh noticed something in Eric's expression and body language then that made her swallow hard – an unusual shred of guilt or sheepishness in his features at the mention of her in a bikini. He flirted with her all the time and it was completely harmless, it was Eric. She'd taken to doing it right back and that was just their relationship. It was when those moments died down and she saw something else in his eyes that made her wonder, though.

But she swallowed it right down and went back to shaking her head at the two of them, mouth pressed together in disapproval and annoyance. There was an attempt to hide a smirk in there somewhere, too, but she was hoping that didn't show too much.

"I hate you both," she teased, hurling a plastic-wrapped fortune cookie Eric's way and knocking him straight on the side of his neck before walking out of the break room.


	4. The Beginning of Ends

**Chapter Title:** The Beginning of Ends  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** Sometime toward the end of season 1 or very early season 2  
 **Summary:** Calleigh and Eric talk after Eric walks in on the end of a disagreement between Calleigh and Hagen.

* * *

Calleigh clenched her jaw as she placed her eye against the eyepiece of the scope, fingers swirling the knob at the side until she had a perfect view of the striations on the bullet from her case – a view that precisely matched the bullet on the left from Eric and Speed's case. And just like that, they'd tied a shooting rampage on the causeway to a burglary in Coral Gables.

When she looked up, John Hagen was still there just like she knew he'd be. He wasn't taking no for an answer, and she was actually starting to get a little pissed. His persistence was endearing when he was pursuing justice or repeatedly asking her out on dates – the original reason she'd finally agreed – but it was less so when he wasn't respecting decisions or her need for alone time and space. She tilted her head to the side in irritation, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder.

"You know, I thought I already gave you my answer."

"I was hoping you'd reconsider," he said, still trying to flirt.

She wasn't. "I'm not," she assured, meeting his eyes with a look that nearly cut.

"Why am I not surprised?"

She rolled her eyes at that, then widened them a little in disbelief. "We already have plans for this week. I told you that."

"I was hoping we could be a little spontaneous," John said, voice softening as he drew closer to her table. "Is it so wrong that I want to change plans and spend my evening sipping wine with you instead of home alone?"

Calleigh sighed in frustration, slipping both bullets from their examining trays and returning them to evidence bags.

"No, but it is wrong to ignore my need for space," she told him firmly. "On Tuesdays I go to the range, and after I'm going home _alone_ to me, a bottle of wine, some Ray Charles, and my drywall. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Final answer?" he asked, just to be sure. She was about to kill him, a thought that did not come to her lightly given her line of work.

"Final answer and I'm about to kick you out of my lab." Her jaw was set and he put his hands up defensively in response, slowly backing out. In doing so, he nearly bumped into Eric right at the door to the lab.

"Whoa," Eric let out, chuckling and stepping back in order to let Hagen through.

As Hagen turned and slipped by Eric, he shook his head and met his eyes briefly, and Eric immediately didn't like the look in his eye or the tone in his voice. "Are all southern women that stubborn, or is it just her?"

Although Eric couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, he raised his hands up in surrender and gave Hagen a serious look. He wasn't touching that question with a 10-foot pole, especially not when Calleigh looked the way she did and sounded the way she did from out in the hall. And he knew without a whole lot of context clues that Hagen had just pissed Calleigh off even more by dragging him, a mutual coworker, into it.

Still, her shoulders relaxed a little as Hagen left and Eric entered.

"Our bullets match," she told him before he had a chance to comment on what he'd just stumbled in on. Her mouth twitched in leftover irritation.

"So the causeway shooter also robbed the bank on Hickok Street," Eric realized aloud, coming to join her at the counter.

Calleigh nodded, and though she was desperately trying to focus on work, Eric noted the tension in her jaw and lips. He was trying not to let his biases guide him too much here – he didn't like Hagen, at least not with Calleigh – but he needed to check on her.

"Hey, you good?" he asked, eyes drifting toward the door that Hagen had just exited through.

Calleigh closed her eyes for a moment, sighing as her brows knitted together.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, softening a little more because oddly enough, she did that whenever Eric checked in on her. And then she took a deep breath before she unleashed a fury of words on him. "It's just...we have an agreement. Two nights a week. We went out Saturday and we're seeing each other tomorrow, and it's been a long day and I just wanna fire a .32, open up a cab sav _by myself_ , and put up some drywall. And he wants to spend more time together and I just can't."

Eric was used to Calleigh's long-winded, fast rambles colored with a Southern drawl, but she'd kinda lost him at drywall.

"You put up drywall?" he asked, trying not to sound offensive. He wasn't surprised, exactly; he'd seen Calleigh split a whole tree to recover bullets. He was just a little amused.

"Yes, I'm converting my storage shed on the back of the house into a sunroom."

"Impressive."

Calleigh pursed her lips, fighting a smile because she was a little smug he was impressed but also that was kinda besides the point.

"Well you wanna know what I think?" Eric asked, snaking his fingers across her table to retrieve the bullet from his case.

"Maybe." Her voice was a little coy, her eyes dancing over him cautiously but curiously.

"I think Hagen should respect your need for space," he said as he nodded towards her, but she was giving him a look because she could tell there was more. "But...not that I'm Team Hagen at all, but can you blame the guy for wanting to spend a little more time with the girl he's into?"

"Maybe when he and that girl have an agreement and already have plans for the week."

"Okay, but…" Eric studied her, searching for the words. "Don't you ever just have a night where you need to be together so you kinda break the rules?"

"No," Calleigh said very quickly and very assuredly. "I like my range time, and my remodel time, and my alone time."

"And you don't ever have a night where you'd like to...not be alone a little more?" It was a euphemism, of course, because this was Eric, so her lips curved up a little.

"Not really."

"Then I don't think you're dating the right people," he admitted honestly, looking at her both a little disbelievingly and a lot mischievously. Calleigh was Calleigh, and sure, she could be a little uptight sometimes, but she was also all spitfire, southern sass, and secret tattoos and he always had a feeling there was a little more to her than she let on...which clearly Hagen didn't bring out in her.

"Oh?" She raised a brow and leaned into the counter. She was a little on the defensive now, not because she thought he was wrong but because she didn't really appreciate Eric recognizing that maybe her and Hagen weren't a perfect match. She didn't want it to be obvious that she was wasting her time. "Maybe you just don't know what it's like to be in a relationship longer than a week when the fun dies down."

"Hey, I've been in relationships," he pointed out, although he was chuckling at her comment. "And it should always be fun." That devilish smirk of his and the way he looked her up and down were quite a combo, and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head at him.

"You don't like him," she surmised, not just because of that but because of dozens of little looks and comments here and there since he'd put the pieces together. They hadn't talked about it at all, but she could tell.

"I…" he began and then stopped, realizing he should carefully choose his words. "It's not that exactly. I just...don't like him for you." He quickly realized there may have been a little too much in that comment, especially when she turned towards him, bringing their bodies even closer together and resting her hip against the counter. They were oddly comfortable in each other's space, and as she looked up at him intently, one of those tank tops she'd been favoring in this Miami summer clinging to her curves and showing off a tasteful amount of cleavage, he was _certain_ there was a lot more to her than she let on. "I don't know, something's just off about him for me."

Calleigh raised her brows, wanting more.

"He just seems like one of those guys that tries really hard to act like a good guy but deep down he's not."

Although John's impatience with her and his lack of self-awareness for how patronizing he was sometimes made her wonder, she gave Eric a look.

"As opposed to you, of course?" she concluded, tilting her head with amusement. "Sauntering all over town with your black t-shirts and your shades like one of the bad guys but deep down you're a knight in shining armor."

Although she was completely teasing, her playfully seductive voice with a little extra southern lilt did a little more to him than he cared to let on – not to mention the fact that she'd stepped even closer, arching her torso into him and pointedly dragging her eyes up his chest until she met his gaze.

Yep, definitely a lot more beneath the surface… Hagen probably had no idea what he was missing – or maybe he did and that was the problem.

"Hey, you said it, not me," he said, still smirking.

Calleigh laughed softly as she reached for the bullet from her case, sliding it across the counter towards him with just a bit of sass still in her movements. "Hey, if you're going to lockup, will you take this for me?"

He watched her hand slide towards him and then darted his eyes up to hers, raising his brows at the audacity of her asking a favor just after having a go at him. "Please," she added sweetly, drawing out the purse of her lips and flip of her tongue, leaving him wondering what it meant that he was powerless to say no.

"Sure," he finally agreed, playfully reluctant. Slipping her evidence into his palm with his matching bullet, he turned toward the door. "Enjoy your wine and your drywall," he added, lifting his hand up in a goodbye.

"Thanks." Calleigh laughed softly as she turned her attention back to cleaning up for the night, flipping the light switch off on the scope. But at the last minute, her eyes flickered back to the hallway, curiously lingering on Eric's retreating form with a smile.


	5. Green

_Note: As usual, thank you all soooo much for the reviews! I love that you're enjoying this. Updates may slow from here on out. Break stops for me today and it's a crazy first week back. I hope I'm able to keep finding some time to write over the next few months!_

* * *

 **Chapter Title:** Green  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** Post-ep for 2x4 – Death Grip  
 **Summary:** Calleigh checks on Eric after the Consuela Valdez case

 _Eric: "If you want any real attention in this world, you've got to have blonde hair and blue eyes...no offense."  
Calleigh: "None taken, my eyes are green."  
~ 2x4 Death Grip_

* * *

The funeral had been lovely: the words from Consuela's family and friends, the flowers in the water, all of the team members who had come. Consuela's family seemed so grateful for it all, which was just another blow to Eric's battered heart.

They hadn't done enough. No one had. Because as usual, no one gave a damn about a hispanic girl. They'd only found Consuela Valdez's killer because of Lana Walker: a pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed white girl from a prominent Miami suburb.

He saw it in the eyes of the other attendees from Consuela's community – the distrust of him and his colleagues, the disdain and confusion in their eyes as they took in the color of his skin and the shiny badge at his hip. He knew that look all too well.

Calleigh touched his shoulder as the crowd dispersed, bringing him back down to earth.

"You wanna take a walk?" she asked softly, sensing his mood.

His teeth ground and his nostrils flared in frustration as his eyes fell on that cross, but he looked back at her appreciatively. "Yeah."

Her hand moved to his back, guiding him back to the sandy dirt road. They split from the line of cars parked along the edge of the road, walking the opposite direction and further into the marsh. It was almost peaceful this way – quiet, save for the crickets chirping as dusk settled in, an occasional breeze making the trees whisper, and the chirp of a songbird breaking up the background noise every so often.

"You did good today, you know," she told him, looking ahead at the path before them.

He looked at her disbelievingly, flatly, and she met his eyes. "You brought Jeff in on the case, organized the rescue mission...you found her and gave her family closure."

Eric nodded, running his tongue along his teeth before he scoffed. "Yeah...and we may have found her alive if people had just paid attention sooner."

Calleigh pressed her lips together solemnly. She wanted to tell him that she understood, that she was angry, too, but she knew it would come out hollow; she lacked the complexion and upbringing for those words.

"Maybe," she admitted honestly. "But the situation was different," she pointed out sensibly. "Lana went with him willingly, Consuela didn't. We don't know how long he kept her alive."

Eric sighed, letting her logic crash against his anger. He wanted to acknowledge it, but he couldn't.

"That doesn't change the fact that Miami has a racial divide," he said bitterly, but it was tempered because he was talking to her and he knew that she knew that.

"No," she agreed sadly, watching him carefully. This had come up before, and she knew how much it bothered him. "It doesn't."

He swallowed hard, looking off at the trees on the other side of him as emotions overwhelmed him. For the half-dozenth time that day, she felt the urge to reach out to him. She'd only given in twice with a light, supportive touch to his shoulder or back, but both times he'd seemed to relax into it. She was reminded again that Eric was more touchy-feely than she was, more calmed by touch than conflicted by it. When she was upset, being touched made it worse – brought her emotions to the surface and made her lose control of them in ways she didn't like, ways she wasn't comfortable with. But Eric's emotions were already right there, his heart on his sleeve, and physical contact seemed to almost help him transfer them to someone else, the bond relaxing him and easing his lonely, broken heart.

She slowed their pace, cautiously asking, "Do you need a hug?"

Eric stilled and turned to her, watching her, curious and conflicted and longing for comfort. That offer did not come lightly from Calleigh, he knew, and he didn't know how to respond without seeming too demanding or needy.

Luckily she did it for him, closing the gap between them and pushing up onto the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. His brows furrowed with emotion as his hands skimmed respectfully high on her waist, palms gliding over her ribs until she was close enough that his arms could wrap around her. She was small enough that he could completely envelope her, and that oddly steadied him today – a day when he felt like despite a badge and a gun and years of experience, he couldn't protect anyone.

Now that he was close, her palm found the back of his head, cradling it against her. He buried his face in the comforting crook of her neck, hiding in a curtain of soft blonde hair for a moment, surrounded by the scent of the glades and Calleigh. It was just what he needed – the two of them, the peaceful quiet, the breeze picking up around them, the solemn darkness closing in, and the comfort of a very good friend.

He tucked her just a little closer before he eased up, oddly comfortable resting his temple to hers in this friendly embrace.

"You know, I didn't realize your eyes were green…" he admitted as he released her, making her chuckle.

He couldn't unsee it now, and as he pulled back he took them in: green like the trees and grass surrounding them, like the clear ocean water near a reef, calm and comforting.

"Guess you don't pay enough attention," she teased, pushing a lock of fallen blonde hair from her face. She'd resumed their slow walking pace, realizing they should turn around soon before they were too far into the marsh when the last of dusk crept away.

"Yeah, well...someone else was," Eric said, the first playful words she'd heard from him all evening.

She stilled, looking at him curiously.

"Jeff," he informed her, and though her brows knit together more her expression didn't really change. "He asked me for your number."

She nodded in understanding, a little smile lifting the corners of her lips, and then her brows furrowed again. "Did you give it to him?"

"No." Now his brows were knitting together, quickly getting a little defensive about that idea.

"Why not?"

"Well number one, I wouldn't without asking you," he told her, and she smiled as he earned a couple more hard-to-score points on the Calleigh Duquesne respect chart. "Number two, he's not right for you."

Now she was the one to get a little defensive at him deciding that for her, slowly crossing her arms over her chest.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked skeptically. "He's smart, successful, good looking...adventurous." That last word had a little flirtatious lilt to it and he smiled, shaking his head at the mischievous grin on her lips. "You might be keeping two people who are perfect for each other apart. For all you know we could have a long happy life together with gator-wrestling, gun-slinging children."

He actually chuckled and it was like music to her ears after today. He made a face then, like he was grossed out by the idea of her and his old friend hitting it off.

"He isn't good enough for you," he said, and she might've thought he was being overly protective if not for the sheer honesty in his words. "He's a player, always has been."

Eric looked ahead, his experience and well-honed instincts telling him it was growing too late to be delving further into the marsh. He tugged on her sleeve, wordlessly turning them around, and she fell into step beside him again.

Picking up where they left off, he looked straight ahead, back towards civilization, as he asked, "Besides, aren't you with Hagen?"

He looked over at her and Calleigh pressed her lips together like she'd been caught, like maybe she was finally admitting to herself and to Eric that the Hagen thing was petering out. She didn't have it in her to hide much from Eric today, so she just smiled knowingly at him and shrugged her shoulders in a "sort of" expression, triggering an amused grin from him. Calleigh was more of a heartbreaker than she liked to let on and he knew it.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they trekked back toward where the service had been, their two cars the only ones now remaining by the side of the road in the dark.

"You gonna be okay tonight?" she asked softly, touching his arm to get his attention again.

"Yeah," he answered, gratefully and honestly. "I'm gonna go to my mom and dad's, spend some time with my sisters and nieces and nephews."

She smiled understandingly, glad he was going to be around family after the day he'd had. She envied that aspect of his life, that he always had a warm, welcoming, and distracting place to go after the evils they saw day-to-day.

"Good," she said, lingering as she drew her car keys from her pocket. "Call me if you need to talk?"

"Will do," he promised, stilling next to his Hummer. "Thanks, Cal," he added, a touch of emotion in his words. He was grateful to have her both as a colleague and a friend today, and though he didn't quite have the words for that right now, he hoped his eyes conveyed a small sliver of it.

"Anytime," she replied honestly, and he knew that she meant it. "Night, Eric."

"Goodnight," he said back, eyes following her until she was safely inside her own car.


	6. Sorry

_Note: Sorry I've been MIA! Turns out my time for writing just disappears when I work full time, especially in the summers when weekends are so busy! But I was happy to finally get some time and inspiration to post this. Hopefully a chapter of One Week is next!_

* * *

 **Chapter Title:** Sorry  
 **Timeline/Reference Episode:** Post-ep for 2x10 – Extreme  
 **Summary:** Calleigh makes a peace offering to Eric after assuming he got into trouble over a younger woman.

Calleigh: (collecting evidence) "Have you talked to Eric?"  
Speedle: (taking pictures) "No. He's really screwing up."  
Calleigh: (playfully) "He must have a new lady friend."

Calleigh: (walking into the lab) "Hey, prize fighter."  
Eric: (looking up) "Hey." (pause) "More like prize punching bag." (continues collecting evidence)  
Calleigh: (recognizing the shirt he's working on) "That's your shirt. Did you forget your lint brush?"  
Eric: "No. Just lookin' for evidence."  
Calleigh: (smiling) "Okay. Let me get this straight: You were walking by, you found a chop shop. You stopped and got into a fight."  
Eric: "Not exactly."  
Calleigh: (smiling teasingly) "How old is she?"  
Eric: (seriously) "It's not like that." (Calleigh stares at him disbelievingly) "Seriously." _  
~ 2x10 Extreme_

* * *

Eric was hobbling from his kitchen to post up on his couch when the doorbell rang. With a staggered sigh – it hurt when he breathed in or out too deeply – he drew his arm over his sore abdomen and slowly began his journey to the front door. He was really starting to wonder about his ability to function tomorrow, because if the "day two is always worse" saying applied to getting your ass kicked, he was surely in trouble.

He finally made it to his front door, pushing the curtain on the adjacent window aside to check who was on his front porch. One corner of his lips twitched, annoyed but slightly amused. It was Calleigh, holding up a six-pack of his favorite Veza Sur beer in a peace offering in one hand, a grocery bag in her other.

He winced as he began to open the door, masking it well by the time she could see him.

"Hey," she said softly, a lot less teasing than she'd been earlier because apparently Eric was more than a little sensitive about the motives behind his incident today. Her voice was unusually soft and sweet, and it was an unexpected balm to his battered heart and ego.

She opened up the storm door for him; despite his best attempts to hide the pain in his features and the stiffness in his movements, she could tell. "Can I come in?"

Eric's lips tightened. "Since you're already twenty minutes out of your way with my favorite beer?" He raised a brow. "Yeah, I guess."

Calleigh rolled her eyes at his tone and stepped through the threshold as he backed inside to let her in. He quickly ducked into his kitchen to grab a bottle opener as she knowingly pulled two bottles out of the six-pack, holding them out while he snapped the tops off. Her perceptive eyes took in the masked grimace that the simple movement of his trunk elicited – a twitch of his lips and eye on that side. But she was silent, simply letting one of the bottles free as he took it from her and tilted it up to his lips.

"What's in the bag?" he asked curiously.

She passed it to him and waited.

"Frozen peas?" he asked skeptically after peering in.

"For your side," she said, doing her best to stay casual despite her worries. Worrying would piss him off again. Worrying would make him even more likely to tough out something that might actually need medical attention. She had to play her cards right. "You get x-rayed or anything?" she asked as they moved into his living room.

His eyes flickered to hers, and she was worried she'd tread too deep into concern so she casually lifted the bottle to her mouth, taking a long, somewhat captivating sip and then licking her lips while her eyes held his. Looking down, she scooped her hair over one shoulder and twisted it with her hand, relieving her back of long, thick blonde hair in addition to the Florida heat and humidity.

She was also conveniently using her feminine wiles to the best of her ability, and between that distraction and the casual way she'd asked, his suspicion and anger were tempered.

"Nah, it's just bruised," he insisted, in a way that had her wondering if he was still convincing himself, too.

"Can I see?"

Because he knew she was asking as both a friend and coworker who had seen a lot of injuries, he slowly lifted his shirt up – gingerly, because it hurt to lift his arm on that side – and revealed the blossoming, darkening bruising that was splotched across his abdomen and ribs.

She bit her lip at the severity, and maybe a little bit at the chiseled ridges of muscles that twitched as soon as her fingertips brushed against his skin.

"That bad?" she asked, though she was able to gently run her fingers along the contours of his ribs.

"Your fingers are just cold." Eric nodded toward the ice cold beer bottle her fingers had been grasping just before she'd touched him, and she smiled apologetically.

"Sorry." She bent down to get a closer look, pressing gently over each rib until he hissed in response and her lips tightened.

"Don't be. Feels good actually." Her eyes darted up to his questioningly and he immediately tripped over his words, tongue darting out to wet his loose lips. "The cold, I mean."

In silent response, she took the frozen peas out of the bag and gently pressed them against his side, his hand brushing hers as it took over the task.

"You should really get an x-ray, you know," she told him, trying not to sound like a nag. "It's really swollen and tender right over your rib." Those were just facts, and her sensibility cut through his defenses.

"Well, what are they gonna do for a broken rib?" he reasoned right back. "Try to give me some painkillers and tell me to rest?" His breathing hitched as he pressed the peas into his side a little too forcefully.

"Or put you on light duty," Calleigh pointed out, getting to the real root of the problem. He didn't want to be taken out of the field and have anyone make a fuss, especially not for a somewhat personal ordeal. "All it would take is one punch or kick from a suspect, or a tackle, to make that a whole lot worse."

Calleigh lifted her bottle to her lips again, hoping he'd follow her lead as she made her way to the couch. And he did, settling in at the other end and wedging the peas between the throw pillow and his body to free his hands.

Eric sighed, and she knew she'd gotten through to him. "I'll tell Horatio if it's bad tomorrow."

She nodded once in agreement, happy they had a deal, and watched him take a long swig from his bottle. There was a comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

"You wanna tell me why you were at that house?"

She wasn't teasing or interrogating this time, just simply asking – giving him the chance to explain himself after being overly sensitive earlier.

Only he wasn't particularly interested in justifying actions that didn't need justifying. Everyone seemed to think Eric Delko had yet again gotten himself into trouble over a girl he was hooking up with. God forbid he'd actually just been in the wrong place at the wrong time while doing a neighbor a favor.

"Not really," he scoffed, shooting her a look.

She tilted her head, leveling with him. "Come on, Eric."

"It's fine, I already got lectured on crossing lines and helping people out," he spat out.

She narrowed her eyes and turned to face him, curling a leg in and up onto his couch. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently as a cop, I have to be careful about who I help out," he said sarcastically, shrugging in exasperation.

"Who told you that?"

"Horatio."

She actually laughed, accompanying it with a roll of her eyes as he watched her. "You mean the king of inserting himself into situations he isn't involved in?"

A smirk – something that was few and far between today – tugged at one corner of his lips. He'd been seething at the hypocrisy on the way home, but he'd written it off, letting his bruised ego and body take the spotlight of his frustrations.

"Right?" He was smiling a little now, and Calleigh was still shaking her head at Horatio. After another few comfortable moments of silence, he continued. "There's this woman who lives around the block...closer in to where the bad part of town seems to be spreading out. I'd always see them on my runs." He paused and shifted the peas against his side. "Lots of people down that way, they stay in these days. The houses are falling apart, gardens are overrun with weeds. But her family was always out. Her husband was always out fixing stuff, kid playing in the yard, she'd be gardening or helping him chase the kid around in between fixing broken fence posts. I'd wave, they'd wave back...seemed happy to see another regular old neighbor out and about."

He stopped again, lips tightening a little in appreciation of the domesticity. "Then suddenly I never saw them. The house just kinda went dark. So I knocked one day to check on them, let her know I was a cop and I just wanted to make sure they were okay."

Eric swallowed, averting his eyes from the aimless gaze that had been fixed on the coffee table and up to Calleigh's bright green awaiting eyes. "Her husband died and suddenly she was a single mom – in that part of town." He breathed out, shaking his head disapprovingly. "So I've been helping her out here and there. I was fixing her car when those guys jumped me."

Calleigh smiled sadly and sympathetically, trying not to let Eric know he'd gotten to her.

"You don't seem surprised."

"Why would I be surprised?" Her eyes held his and she shrugged, running her thumb through the condensation on the outside of her bottle. "Sounds exactly like the Eric Delko I know."

Eric smirked again, defenses down as he spoke with a hint of amusement this time. "Really? Cause earlier you seemed to think I only got into trouble cause of sleeping with younger women."

Calleigh laughed, shaking her head in dismissal of her earlier words. "We just like to tease you; you make it easy sometimes."

Now it was Eric's turn to roll his eyes, but he was still a lot more open and unguarded than he had been earlier.

"Seriously though," Calleigh began, reaching her leg out to bump his knee affectionately with the end of her shoe. "I'm sorry for assuming."

Her eyes held his until he smiled, leaning forward to clink his bottle against hers before they both took a swig.

"Apology accepted."

He was too busy letting the taste linger on his lips and shoving the peas further against his side to feel the weight of her gaze, her eyes softening as her lips curved upward. He was sweet – she'd always known that. But now she knew he had softer spot than she'd even realized for those in need. And now she also knew that she had a bit of a soft spot for him, her brows furrowing with a hint of confusion at that revelation.


End file.
